Renewing the Dream
by Galan
Summary: Set immediately before Maria's return from the abbey, through the eyes of the Captain.


This was inspired by "Once Upon a Dream", one of the most beautiful songs from _Jekyll & Hyde._ This is through the eyes of the Captain, right before Maria returns. No ownership pretended, etc., etc.

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**Renewing the Dream**

_Tap. Tap. Tap._ Georg drummed his fingers along the polished desk surface again, from his little finger to his thumb one time after another. The rhythm soothed him and he paused, stretching his index finger out to nudge the folded paper in the midst of his desk blotter.

He saw no reason to read her note another time; already Georg knew by heart the sparse words she had penned. _Captain, children, I am sorry that I must leave you on such short notice. However, I feel that I have been called to return to the abbey. I shall always treasure my time with you. May God bless. Yours, Maria._

Gretl had demanded to see the note, thrusting out her hands with their sticky fingers and pouting when Georg shook his head and tucked the note into his pocket. The other children had remained silent, serving themselves quietly from the breakfast platters while he had sat, holding his coffee cup as it grew cold and bitter.

The days since that evening had crawled, each morning dawning clear, clean, and miserable. Nothing changed as the sun went down and rose again: he passed the mornings reading various newspapers, scowling over the columns offered by Herr Zeller's cronies; lunch was had on the terrace, served by Frau Schmidt; afternoons were walks by the lake with Elsa, listening as she chattered about her friends and acquaintances in Vienna, until they returned to the terrace for a light afternoon meal with tea, coffee, or lemonade; the rest of the afternoon and evening until dinner he answered letters and, the day before, nodded as Elsa murmured about plans for their wedding.

His children were often out and about on their own, playing as they had not for years. Their spirits were darker than for the past several weeks, but still they had spark in them different from before her. The worst, though, had been to see their faces as he announced his engagement to Elsa a few hours before. Every mouth, straining to hide its frown and every pair of eyes disappointed and darkened.

But it would be for the best. Shoving his chair backwards, Georg stood, pulling his suit jacket down and smoothing away the wrinkles. He slipped his hand into a pocket, brushing the wilting ring of flowers there. Marta had plucked several of the tiny white alyssum blossoms and woven them together into two bracelets, giving one to him early that first afternoon without Maria. _"Who is the other for?" he had asked._

_"Fräulein Maria," she answered. "For when she comes back."_ More than a week had passed without a word from either the young woman or the abbey, and Georg knew nothing of where that tiny second circlet had gone. He did not even understand why he remembered, or why he cared.

Walking with heavy steps through his study door, Georg sighed. The word rushed by askew today, somehow improper. Wrong. But the error—that could not be it, he needed Elsa as she needed him. And they were close, friends for years even before he began those miserable escapes to Vienna to shut out everything once again so dear to him. Even when Agathe still lived, Elsa had been a friend to them both.

Muted voices sang somewhere outside, drifting through the open doors to the terrace, nearly mournful on the same breeze that breathed over the drapes hanging on either side of the frame. But nothing like the sounds of earlier in the afternoon.

Had he forgotten something? Turning around, Georg glanced back to his desk. No, all there that was of any import was her note—and no, he could not take it with him wherever he went. He refused to do so.

"...brown paper packages tied up with strings..." The words were familiar, like something he had heard once before, and not an unpleasant sound, either. "...these are a few of my favorite things." The silence was almost more pleasant. He twirled his finger in his pocket, through the dead flowers, a few petals coming away with his touch. How long had passed since he had informed them that they would have no dinner? Long enough for them to consider the consequences of lying to him. One of Frau Schmidt's maids had been laying out the plates for the children's evening meal, perhaps already finished.

"...in white dresses with blue satin sashes, snow flakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes..." Had their voices just turned up, as though something pleasant had just come to pass? No, perhaps it was just another of his imaginings, just like that night, dancing the Ländler, what he had thought he saw. Unthinkable, really.

Taking another slow measured step, Georg continued toward the terrace. Their singing had died down, now just a jumble of voices he had come to treasure and expect in his home. And that was what it was now, not merely a house but a _home_. The Lord send that it remain one.

"...delivered lately?" _What?_ Georg's head came up, no longer tracing a path on the tiled floor with his eyes. Those words were spoken with that so familiar voice, a perfect tone.

"None at all, Fräulein." Yes, that was Liesl. He walked quicker, his footsteps drowning out the rest of the conversation that had begun between his children...But he would not believe until he saw with his own eyes. "...going to be married." One of his girls, and her voice was heavy, like it bore a weight.

"Married?" And hers had the same. He quickened his feet for those last few paces, slowing only as he came to the threshold, stepping over it cautiously and reservedly. What would she think of him that he was so eager to see her? And...God in heaven, how did he begin what he needed to say, even to ask her anything—

"Father, look!" The cacophony of voices exploded again, words mixing together as he looked on, Maria in the midst of those children where she belonged. Appearing nearly at home. The words rushed by, excited shouts that she had returned from the abbey, but he only looked to _her_.

"Good evening, Captain," she said, as quiet as he expected. That sense of belonging had somehow vanished, no longer worn as the second skin it had been for her weeks with them, and himself. And what did that mean? For years, Georg had prided himself on being precise and direct, knowing exactly what he wanted, but how did he know nothing of the sort now? He had already announced his engagement to Elsa to the children and it was expected enough in Vienna that he hardly needed to send the notices—and with a look from this woman, everything was just as off balance as it had been those few minutes earlier.

But she had returned. Georg could not contain his entire grin as this young woman stood before him, her hands flat against her dress. Could she see just how pleased he was to see her? She must. "Good evening...Fräulein." And did she notice the eagerness in his words? Lord knew, she must.


End file.
